


Bliss Under the Greenwood Tree

by mala_ptica



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Continuation, Everyone Needs Therapy, F/M, I'm genuinely concerned about the Brothers at the Quiet Isle, POV Brienne of Tarth, The Quiet Isle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25761352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mala_ptica/pseuds/mala_ptica
Summary: Brienne and Jaime meet Lady Stoneheart.Things go pretty well, considering.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 75
Kudos: 106
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020





	Bliss Under the Greenwood Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarkWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkWolf/gifts).



> “Under the greenwood tree”  
> (excerpt from _As You Like It_ )
> 
> Under the greenwood tree  
> Who loves to lie with me,  
> And turn his merry note  
> Unto the sweet bird's throat,  
> Come hither, come hither, come hither:  
> Here shall he see  
> No enemy  
> But winter and rough weather.

Brienne recalled the last moments before she and Jaime reached the camp, how with tears streaming down her cheeks and her throat hot she had confessed her betrayal, telling him that since he was in sight of the brotherhood without banners’ scouts she had fulfilled her duty to Lady Stoneheart, so he could run. She would stay to save Pod on her own.

But Jaime did not flee. Instead, he only clenched his jaw and spurred his horse on towards the camp, drawing Widow’s Wail as he rode. Brienne chased after him, trying to scream, but the sound caught and twisted in her injured throat, like a bird with clipped wings. He reached the camp before her and by then, the brotherhood without banners had descended on him. She only caught a glimpse of his golden curls and white cloak disappearing in the din.

She did not think, just moved, as though pulled by the invisible thread that connected them. Brienne was at the eye of a storm as the world whirled around her: the flashes of steel, the sounds of bones breaking, horses screaming and mail clanging overwhelmed. A force collided with her, man or beast she could not tell. As she fell from the horse, distantly, she knew something inside her was broken. Someone was screaming her name, but she could not respond. Everything after that was a blur.

-

_ How they escaped, she did not understand. Brienne remembered bringing Jaime to Lady Stoneheart, a lamb to slaughter, though it broke her heart. She remembered the fight that swallowed him like a storm. She remembered getting hit, and nothing else. When she woke again, the battle was over, and she was on a horse, riding through the wood, with Pod seated behind her, holding her by the waist – or at least, trying to, as far as his little arms could reach. _

_ When she looked up, she saw nothing but tall trees that seemed to pierce the sky. _

_ Her head throbbed, and her eyesight was unclear, so she knew she probably had not yet recovered from the fight, but she could faintly make out the sight and sounds of a rider ahead, so she knew that she and Pod were not alone. They must have survived and escaped; it was the only explanation. She gave in to a moment of quiet relief and sent a prayer to the Mother for protecting the child. When Brienne grabbed his hand and squeezed, Pod let out a yelp of surprise. He hugged her tightly and started blubbering, thankful she had woken. When she asked her squire about Ser Hyle, he shook his head, rubbing his tears into her back; she felt a wet spot through her jerkin. Brienne let him weep a while, fighting tears herself. _

_ She did not ask about Jaime; she did not need to. He must be the rider before them, leading the way out of the wood. The dense foliage and bright light ahead made it difficult to get a clear look at him, and her throat was still hoarse from the rope. She could not believe only days ago she had been a captive of the brotherhood without banners; it felt like a lifetime ago. So, she did not call to him, content to know he was protecting them from the back of his white horse, and his white cloak trailing behind unblemished. _

_ She did not notice when it became dark again, and she could not tell one tree from another. For all Brienne knew, they were going in circles, and she was in no condition to argue. _

_ When night came, the little party made camp in the stump of a giant tree, its decaying walls a protective charm. _

_ As Brienne lay upon the sweet earth, Jaime curled up next to her, just as he had when they had been captives together. Jaime spread his cloak over her shoulders as she shook from the chill of the night, and she shivered under its weight. _

_ Would that she could stay with him like this forever. _

-

The Elder Brother was dubious when the warrior maid was brought to the Isle, broken and bleeding, and held up by a boy in not much better state. Privately, the Elder Brother did not think she would survive, and that the kindest thing that could be done for her would be to give her milk of the poppy and let her greet the Stranger in her sleep. The tears of the young squire moved him to ask the healers to try and save her, at least.

So, out of mercy, the Elder Brother bade the maester tend the Maid of Tarth well and do what could be done.

Sometimes mercy can be a cruelty.

-

_ In her exhausted haze, Brienne could not make out quite what Jaime was saying, but on the edge of sleep she caught snatches of sweet words, and he brushed her wounds with his fingertips, his touches gentle. _

_ “…never should have gone alone…stupid, cow-eyed wench…a hundred knights to protect you …I will stay by your side…stay, stay, stay…” _

_ She replied to him once or twice and Pod asked who she was talking to, but she did not mind the boy. Jaime’s words had been so soft, only she could hear them. _

_ - _

The maester grumbled as he was dragged from his morning meal, but he quit when he saw the Maid of Tarth and her wretched companion. He remembered her when she visited the Quiet Isle before, but her company then had more numbers.

Once she had been cleaned, the maester found she had injuries to her arms, to her neck, to her face, to her head, to her hip, to her…there was barely an inch of her that was not broken and bleeding. Too many of her wounds had been patched together by untrained hands, healing strangely and painfully, in fits and starts or not at all. Her broken arm may never hold a sword again, he feared, and it was only by the favor of the Stranger that a fever did not take her when the wound on her face festered.

But his work was a sacred duty, and he was tired of burying good men and women. So, steeling his heart, he prayed to the Smith for sharp instruments and a steady hand.

_ - _

_ In the dappled light, under the soft green foliage, Brienne was laughing. She did not mean to be, and immediately covered her mouth as she realized what she was doing. _

_ She could not help laughing though; the sight was too ridiculous. Her rough hands, the lines dark with dirt, and nails torn and chipped by rocks and roots had no right to be touched by his soft pink lips. No right to be wrapped in the strip of red silk torn from his tunic. Jaime was too beautiful, and she too monstrous for such courtesies. She felt hot tears stinging her eyes as she tried to muffle the laughter that could not stop, the laughter that tore from her in hysterical pain. _

_ But he pulled her hand away from her mouth, and touched her lips with his thumb. Then he kissed her forehead, then the tears under her eyes, and then the bandages on her cheek, pressing lightly so as not to hurt. She did not laugh at that. _

-

By the end of the night, the maester had been on his feet for hours working. His hands ached with the repetitive motion of sawing, sawing, sawing against the bone, the slippery tissue and skin. Her breathing was shallow, and her skin hot. Despite all his work, she slipped further and further from his grasp.

He prayed to the Mother for mercy, but he was not sure for whom.

-

_ Jaime carried her across the threshold of the Quiet Isle with Pod snapping at his heels. His hands burned tattoos into her side where he held her. Her head throbbed; sounds hurt, and light hurt. When she tried to look at Jaime, she saw the faint outline of a rainbow around his head. He looked like the Warrior, crowned by the light of the Seven. Had there ever been such a perfect man? Or were her eyes going soft? She tried to focus, but it felt too much. Everything was too much. _

_ A light drew her glance; it came from a window in the small room. Squinting, she sat up to see more clearly. Through the window, she saw the shimmering Trident, weaving outside the Quiet Isle, and past that, the greenwood. For a moment, she saw a flash of golden hair and a white cloak among the trees.  _ Jaime.  _ At once, she stood, grasping her sword, and fastening it to her side. _

_ She thought for a moment she heard Pod’s voice calling her name, but they were at the Quiet Isle and he was safe here, so Brienne ignored him and strode out the door, heading towards the wood. _

_ Jaime was waiting. She would not disappoint him again. _

**Author's Note:**

> For StarkWolf, who requested Stoneheart, Riverlands, marriage, and "Angst, Angst, Angst." I can't say I hope a sad fic gladdens your heart but I hope it fills some certain emotional need and that you found something you liked in this.
> 
> Thank you to likeadeuce, winterkill and Ye Who Shall Remain Anon (not their name) for beta and keeping me from going too far down the experimental non-linear narrative path to make this work.
> 
> No apologies to Hyle Hunt.
> 
> (And 1/4 characters alive is really pretty good by ASOIAF standards, ok!! I wasn't lying.)


End file.
